


Yang's Time Stop Mess

by orphan_account



Category: RWBY
Genre: Body Writing, Do Yang, Don't do Whiskey, Extreme Pleasure, Extreme cum use, F/M, Free Use, Rape, Time Stop, Whiskey is bad for you, frozen, revenge fuck, tally marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:48:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22428874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Five years ago, Whiskey had his dreams of being a Hunter dashed by Tai Xiao Long, because of the accusation he focused too much on his semblance. Leaving him high and dry, he dreamed for a chance for revenge against the man.Then Yang Xiao Long walks into a bar.
Relationships: Yang Xiao Long/OC
Comments: 4
Kudos: 61





	Yang's Time Stop Mess

“You can’t be serious.” The words flowed out of his mouth naturally. His mind didn’t catch up to them. “I mean, I get you joke around, but this is a bad joke. Really bad.”  
  
“It’s no joke, cause I’d never make fun of someone’s education.” The man across from him noted simply. Simply, but he crossed his arms as he did so, narrowing his blue eyes as well. “Not about to joke about something I literally get paid for. Fastest way to have me out of a job.”  
  
“Okay, now _that’s_ funny,” he spoke again, pointing at the blonde across from him. “Talking about being out of a job after dropping that bombshell… I’ll admit, I didn’t see this joke coming. I’m usually better about seeing them. But _damn_ if you didn’t lay it on me.”  
  
“Again, this isn’t a joke. _Not. A. Joke_.” His hands chopped the air before folding back against his chest. “This ain’t funny or fun, and jokes are supposed to be both. This is serious, and I’m trying to have a serious talk with you.”  
  
“It’s what you said, but I’m still waiting for it.” His smile was wavering. “I mean… seriously, you cannot _not_ be serious about this.”  
  
“I _seriously_ am. Being anything less than that now would be bad for both of us. I’m straight and up front with you, because this is something that has to be done.”  
  
“No it doesn’t, there is _no_ reason for this to be done.” He was looking around the office, as if in hopes of finding some proof to latch onto. “I-I don’t see why you have to do it. Attendance is down for other schools, I’m in my final year, I-I start at Beacon in _a_ year.”  
  
“Correction,” the blonde held up his finger. He drew in a breath. “You _hoped_ to attend Beacon, you and a lot of other kids. And credit where it's due, they were impressed with what you could do. Like you said, it’s your final year, and you didn’t make it this far with dumb luck and lazing about.”  
  
“Right, right,” the man agreed, nodding his head. “That’s proof that I’m serious about this a-and they are for me, too! So don’t go throwing out landmines like that… trying to give me a heart attack before-”  
  
“Again, one more time, _not joking_.” He almost hit the desk with his hands. “They were impressed, but like every other kid, they wanted me to look further into you, and give my two Lien as for if you’d be good Beacon material or not.”  
  
“How could I not be?” There was no criteria he could remember he didn’t excel at. “I can assemble and disassemble my weapon, I know almost all the Grimm in Patch and Vale, I studied the history of the Hunters, I’m _really_ strong in a fight.”  
  
“Nearly there, 75% at least,” the blonde spoke. “You got all the knowledge, and a fair bit of wit, ‘nough to make some of the other teachers here wonder if you’ve got a second brain lying around.” That was one of the man’s usual jokes, and it fell as flat as the floor his heels were tapping on. “Issue is, that really is all you have. And a Hunter _needs_ to know how to fight.”  
  
“I _can_ fight!” He held himself back from slamming his fists on the table. The wry raise of his instructor’s brow stopped him. “Sorry Mr. Xiao Long, but… but I _can_ fight. I mean, I’ve never even lost a match!”  
  
“You did lose one actually, and that was the first giveaway to me something was up.” He bit his lip, even as the blonde picked up a few sheets of paper nearby. For a long moment, the only sound in the office was the flipping of pages, the blonde running through them until he came to the one he wanted. “After your semblance was deactivated by a time delay, you were left vulnerable to your opponent. Said opponent was not only able to beat you, but defeat you without being hit again.  
  
“S-So she was fast, and I was off my game. I’m allowed to lose at least _once_ right? I mean, otherwise you’re saying that _no one_ from here can be a Hunter!” He made to stand.  
  
But the harsh glare from the blue eyes of Mr. Xiao Long stopped him. He wasn’t just his teacher, an instructor, he was also a pro-hunter. It showed in that look, and as proud as he was of his ability, fighting that was… he knew better than to challenge someone who could knock him out with a single punch.  
  
“If it was just a bad day, then you’re right. But I looked into it, and I found something disturbing.” His eyes returned to the pages in hand. “In all your hand-to-hand aptitude tests, you didn’t just perform poorly, you didn’t perform at all. In fact, if you weren’t skipping the class, you were caught outright using your Semblance out of line.”  
  
“I’d be using my Semblance in the field, so I thought I could.” He spoke hastily, even if he knew Mr. Xiao Long wasn’t done.  
  
“Furthermore, your scores for physical evaluations were not bad, by some measure, but they also showed no improvements between your years. Any changes were chalked up to just normal reading errors, deviations or that other math stuff.” Math stuff? “Don’t look at me like that. I get enough of this to know it means you’re not improving by _anything_ that can’t be put down as chance.”  
  
“That’s not what it means,” he implored again. “Mr. Xiao Long so… so _what_ if I’m not the strongest fighter out there. I don’t have to be. I just-”  
  
“No, you don’t.” He agreed. The fact that the blonde’s eyes hadn’t softened or melted told the other man that it wasn’t a good thing. “You don’t have to be the strongest, but you _do_ have to be adaptive. Because a Hunter _has_ to be ready for change, for challenge, and for being the source of strife. And you, unfortunately, can do little else aside from use your Semblance in a fight.”  
  
“But it’s an amazing Semblance!” Mr. Xiao Long didn’t even try and argue the point. “I mean, what _can’t_ I do with it! I can go from A to B faster than any runner, I can spend more time thinking about plans, I can set up blows for Grimm without them knowing, I can do so much with it!”  
  
“Didn’t say you couldn’t, but I _did_ say everything you do depends on it.” Now he was forced to bite his tongue. “I have looked through everything to tell me otherwise, but all I did was find more proof. Kid, you _do_ have a Grade-S Semblance, but you’ve got straight D’s in everything else. You lose that Semblance, be it cause time ran out or you just got hit too hard, and there are some civilians who’d give you a tough time.”  
  
“But… But I can _literally_ stop time.”  
  
“And I can’t name a person alive who couldn’t find use with something as great as that,” Mr. Xiao Long spoke freely about it. “You can do a lot, but like I said, all you need is to be surprised once and then you’re not a Hunter, you’re a _liability_. And if you throw out that any Hunter could be in a bad enough situation, that’s true, but you’ve got the _biggest_ hole in the world to avoid for it. Everyone else, they can at least adapt. I can’t see that in you.”  
  
He looked down at his hands, bunching them into fists over his uniform pants. His fingers were nearly tearing at the fabric, but was unable to do much else other than stretch it. Just like his teacher said, he wasn’t strong enough to even rip apart _cotton_.  
  
“Thing is, and I’m not trying to bury you deeper with this, but if we had found this out a year ago, maybe two, then we’d have done something. But you kept hiding it so damn well with your Semblance that, well, no one got to stress test it.”  
  
“Shouldn’t that be proof I’m good enough for Beacon? I’m not an idiot, even _you_ know that, so if I can fool all the teachers here, can’t that prove I’m good enough?” He was grasping at straws, and his mother had always told him to never settle for the minimum amount. Yet here he was.  
  
“Eh, only way _that_ could work is if you signed something that said you’d only take low risk missions. You think _any_ team would take you on and not complain about that?” Who cared about them? “And if you _did_ drag them down, you think it’ll be anything less than this?” Mr. Xiao Long’s hand pointed from himself to the boy across from him, and back again.  
  
His student stewed, trying to imagine a good counter argument, but none came to mind. He was intelligent enough to ace the tests, going far in Signal with grades alone, and beating the competition when he had to. But the _brute_ and _monkey_ of the school had just… he had just found out the one thing he was sure he never had to worry about!  
  
“Can’t… Can’t we think of some other way?” Even asking for help felt like he was rubbing blood on his tongue, and it made him gag. But not as much as watching the blonde shake his head, crossing his arms once more.  
  
“Trust me, that’s what I was thinking about for the past few _weeks_. Somethin’ else to tell you to get you into Beacon. But no matter what way I came at it, or who I asked, _discreetly_ , none had an idea.” He sighed, and it felt like he was spitting on the boy’s dreams. “Sides, I didn’t bring you here to talk about it. The decision was made less than an our ago.”  
  
His eyes looked up at the blonde’s blue orbs. If there was mercy in there, he didn’t bother to look for it. All he felt was _scorn._  
  
“I’m sorry, but you’re not getting into Beacon. You’re not going to be a Hunter.”  
  
_SLAP!_ The papers came down like a gavel.  
  
His breathing wavered at that moment, jaw trembling as he stared at it. Al his dreams, all his _work_ , all his _plans_ for the past few years, for his _life_ even…. Suddenly gone, just like that. Not because he’d done anything wrong, no, but because he did it too _good_.  
  
“I’m being thrown out…. Because I can’t throw a punch?” He growled out the answer, finally digging his fingers into the skin beneath his pants. It did little to calm him. “Then what am I supposed to do? What… what do you _expect_ me to do now?”  
  
“Honestly, I got a few ideas,” Mr. Xiao Long responded. “But my suggestion is to take a year. Go off and relax if you can. Clear your head, put your eyes forward, and think ‘bout what matters most. Working hard to plug this gap, at least make it culpable, or do somethin’ else. I told you enough, you’re smart. You could make something great of yourself.”  
  
The man sighed again, pushing himself up from the desk, standing over his student. The boy didn’t look up at him, staring at him with a fury that burned inside his head, wondering _what_ he could do to get back at this man, to _convince_ him that he was good enough for Beacon. He was, he knew it! He just… he just needed a chance.  
  
Just one chance.  
  
“Till then, you’re done. I’m sorry Whiskey, there’s no Hunter license for you in this future.”  
  
And he couldn’t even get that.

* * *

Five years later, he still had nothing.  
  
_SLAM!_ “Another!” Whiskey yelled out, nearly belching as he did so. His eyes screwed themselves to keep the fluids down. The patrons at the bar around him ignored him, brushing past him without a care in the world. “Fucking ingrates. You can… you can afford to be lazy…”  
  
He stared at the empty glass, ignoring the pulse of music behind him, the people screaming for joy as they jumped around and made fools of themselves, living the good life while they had it. Or enjoying the high rise they finally reached. That point he _never_ got to flourish in.  
  
Whiskey’s hand gripped the glass, hoping to see _some_ kind of crack propagate up it, to tell himself, if no one, that he did have the strength, that he could still be a Hunter. But nothing happened.  
  
The wet glass just sat there in his cupped hands, sweating on the table as he flushed with annoyance.  
  
“One more.” _SLAM!_ “Then you’re out.” The quick warning and delivery came with a beer bottle being put next to his hand. He looked up through a bleary gaze, staring at the red-glassed man behind the counter. “What? Got a problem? I can’t give you more whiskey, boss’s orders.” Boss…  
  
“I could’ve… I could’ve _been_ your boss,” Whiskey hissed the words, just imagining it. Him sitting on some golden throne above the club, swirling a bottle of scotch while women _swirled_ under him. “Just… that fucking Tai… that damn Tai…”  
  
“Drown your sorrows about ties and knots all you want, just don’t make a scene,” the bartender’s dismissive remarks came with a wave of his hand. “You pay, so you stay. You lose, your loss, got it. And ‘fore you scream some more, Boss said that if you get louder than the jam, you’re gonna get jammed up, got it.” He snarled at the bartender.  
  
If it was just him, then it wouldn’t be an issue. Just him, and Whiskey could use his Semblance to tear down and _humiliate_ the man. If that was it… he could do it. But then there was everyone else in the club, and his coworkers, and this _boss_.  
  
And they had all seen his face. So that wouldn’t work.  
  
Instead of rebutting with a crass comment, he took the bottle, popping the top with his thumb and leaning back.  
  
“Good, drink up then sober up somewhere else.” The bartender left with that, barely a thrum of noise compared to the music. That was to Whiskey’s benefit, because he needed something to pound in his skull, other than his own fists.  
  
Five years and nothing to show for it. Five years since Taiyang Xiao Long had screwed him out of his future, all because he couldn’t _fight_ as well as the other Hunters. And here there were fucking _kids_ that were unable to swing a sword getting into Beacon. _He’d_ seen it. He saw it every time he watched the opening ceremonies, seeing where he _could_ have been, and imagining where he could have gone.  
  
Didn’t matter what he thought he could be. All that Whiskey was now was a man drowning in Scotch.  
  
“Eugh…” He almost cracked a tooth as his head fell forward, almost putting the bottle in his head. No, he wasn’t _that_ fortunate. He still just hit his head on the countertop, namely when another _lucky_ soul waltzed right by him. “Dammit. I could’ve… I could’ve had…” He shook his head, raising it up before tilting the bottle back.  
  
Whiskey emptied it in seconds, and his head was no better off than it was a few hours ago.  
  
The bottle hit the countertop again, his fists next to hit. Hot breaths entered and left him as he tried to focus on something else, _anything_ else.  
  
He had come here for the purpose of deafening and numbing himself. Regular bars were too quiet and were filled with too many people chasing their dreams and getting off on it in front of him. Men who had gotten their dream job and hitting on women to fuck. Gold diggers walking around with platinum bodies ready to lasso a gold mine. People having a great time.  
  
Then there was him, and Whiskey realizing that he had wasted his month’s welfare on scotch, again.  
  
“Gonna need to find another part-time job,” he bemoaned to no one, the blare and thrum of the music making him just another face in the crowd. No, even _less_ than that. “Gotta… gotta find something else…” He could’ve found anything he wanted, if he had a Hunter’s license.  
  
If he hadn’t been cheated out of his future by a man who didn’t know how to think. And now all Whiskey had was broken dreams and stained teeth. His hand pushed at his nose, feeling the heat of the drink spread across it. The only solace in his life was that he hadn’t become the disgusting tub of lard he thought he would be.  
  
As it turned out, doing blue-collar work in 18-hour shifts tended to keep one in shape. Even if he spent the rest of the time drinking in the alleys behind work.  
  
Like it mattered… like any of it mattered. _None_ of it mattered.  
  
“Fucking Tai…. Fucking… _fucking!”_ He grinded his teeth until he thought they would crack. He honesty hoped they would. Then he could get something for the pain. But luck wasn’t on his side tonight.  
  
At least not in the way he was looking for.  
  
Because someone else knocked into him again, making him lurch forward against the bar. He kept his scotch down, but his eyes rolled with imbalance. A snarl worked at his lips as he turned around, ready to cuss out whoever had hit him.  
  
“ _Whoops!_ Sorry ‘bout that buddy.” Whiskey’s voice died in his throat. “Tight fit in here, if you know what I mean~.” It died when he stared at the girl talking to him.  
  
The girl with long blonde hair, with a grin he couldn’t forget, with an outfit that looked to match, with a chest that pushed out like inflated balloons… and who kept a wry proud grin right in his face… He knew that grin, he _knew_ this person.  
  
“Tai?” He whispered the name, fists clenched at his sides.  
  
“Tai? Whoa, you know my dad?” The girl yelled, grinning from ear to ear.  
  
Whiskey was surprised he hadn’t passed out at the question. It was something he never knew he needed, not until it was being spoken to him by a girl a foot shorter than him, and with all the features he wanted to destroy.  
  
“Must be an old student of his, right? Bet you’re in Vale for work. It’s where all the Hunters go.” No doubt, no question, this was… this was Tai’s daughter… this was her! This was what he needed! “That why you’re in town, doing some more Hunter work?” She grinned at it, broad and straight.  
  
Even as Whiskey felt his blood boil at the reminder, at Tai’s daughter, _laughing at_ him for not having a license, for asking him, as if she didn’t already know, just _what_ he didn’t have. Asking it like… like it was a joke. She was smiling like it was one.  
  
“It’s why I’m here! Just got my team formed at Beacon, set for first years there!” Of course, Whiskey bemoaned, _of course!_ He saw red as he saw that familiar shade of blonde bounce for joy at _her_ luck, blessed to her by _her_ father, and _taken_ from what he deserved. “Gotta celebrate before the lessons really start to kick in. Can’t expect to beat up the Grimm if you don’t have the guns for it!”  
  
And then she flexed her arm, to show off those _guns_. The things that he didn’t have, and frankly never needed. Of course Tai would give them to his daughter, in spades no less. Guns, training, and his blessing for Beacon. He didn’t try and sabotage _her_ future. Just his. Just Whiskey’s _because he wasn’t a fighter, he was a planner._  
  
And looking at that wry grin, being reminded _one more time_ about the bastard who wronged him, he made just that.  
  
_A plan._  
  
“Hey! It was great seeing you! You got a name I can give my dad? Give him a holler?” A name… no, but a message?  
  
“Just tell him,” Whiskey began, breathing deeply as he focused on the blonde in front of him.  
  
On her hands on her hips, emphasizing the brawn in her arms, and the six-pack of her exposed gut. Of the cleavage presented between her top, full as skulls and hidden behind the same leathery brown her father wore. He focused on her skirt, hiding _nothing_ midway down the thigh, and he was sure would take only a curious breeze to show what was beneath.  
  
He focused on all of that, keeping it in his head, right next to the memory of her father _ruining his life_. Then, he answered.  
  
“Tell him I’ve got a new lease on life, _all thanks to him!_ ” He only yelled to overcome the music, but he wasn’t kidding or lying. The girl, the blonde, the _bitch_ , grinned back up at him.  
  
“Cool! Name’s Yang myself, and I’ll pass it on. Enjoy the night, _cowboy!_ ” She flicked one of her bangs before turning away from him, easily pushing her way through the crowd. He watched her leave, staring at her like a lion did a tasty gazelle. No… like a lion, who had just watched a panther eat his prey.  
  
The offspring of the one man he hated most, and she had just given him the _perfect_ way to get back at the bastard.  
  
“Hey, you payin’ for the drink?” Whiskey didn’t look as he reached into his pocket, slapping the Lien inside down on the counter. Maybe more, maybe less, he didn’t care. He had other things to worry about.  
  
His legs were on autopilot as he walked into the crowd, dancing and jumping around him with the ferocity of a stampede of Beowolves. The music was as loud as their howls, and the people lapped it up. Whiskey saw women with tapped breasts, men humping the whores who walked next to them, drinks being spilled between laughter, and a few guys curiously close to their knees. He saw all of it, but he ignored just as much.  
  
All he cared about was the blonde jumping around in the middle of the dance floor, and trying to find the perfect opportunity. Just waiting, just watching.  
  
Until he couldn’t take it.  
  
_CLICK!_  
  
With a snap of his jaw, the room froze.  
  
The music as lost to a vacuum of sound, the people screaming were muted, their actions encased in unseen ice, and their expressions all captured more perfectly than any camera could ever manage. They didn’t blink, squirm, cry, or utter a sound. Not even a twitch of effort to move. All silent as the grave. And they were not alone.  
  
With a click of his tongue, Whiskey had indeed put the world into a stasis. Like they were all overcome with the need to mourn, and he was the keeper of the graveyard.  
  
A gravedigger eyeing the next plot he aimed to plow.  
  
“Taiyang Xiao Long, seriously,” he muttered to himself, the sounds acting like a megaphone in the dead silent room. “Believing this wasn’t good enough to be a Hunter. Acting like I _needed_ to fight to be good at something.” He lifted and pushed away the crowd in front of him, shoving them against one another.  
  
He didn’t keep track of the bodies he shoved together, careless of the mannequins that fell over as he marched. His eyes were on one woman and one woman only, and she was in the midst of jumping for joy, hands over her head, and breasts bouncing under her tight halter top. Whiskey couldn’t contain his grin. He couldn’t stop smiling.  
  
His luck was awful, but for just this one moment, it _must_ have taken pity on him.  
  
“Your dad, little bitch, seriously thought I wasn’t Hunter material,” Whiskey spoke as he stood in front of Yang again, the girl introducing herself to a complete stranger. “The guy who’s smart enough to recognize a threat, and just as capable to deal with it, doesn’t qualify for the position of Hunter. Bet you can fancy a few guesses as to why.”  
  
He was standing in a veritable clearing now, Yang stuck mid-jump and completely unaware of him. Of course, because while he was studying her sweat stained features, eyeing her frozen muscles, _loathing_ her almost endless blonde hair, she was stuck in the same moment in time. On the same beat that was left hanging in the air.  
  
“It’s too late for me to get a license. No school will take a young twenty drop out, and even less will give me the exam.” His hands hovered over her body, ghosting over her tight clothing and revealing skin. “All I got is this once chance, to reach out and take _everything_ I deserve. So thank you… for giving me the opportunity.”  
  
Whiskey let his hand fall. _GROPE!_ Right on top of the girl’s breasts.  
  
“Huh, and here I thought you were gonna have implants. Daddy’s girl gets everything, doesn’t she?” Whiskey stared at the girl, but she didn’t respond. Her face stuck in an excited grin, hanging in mid-air. He gripped the breasts like buns of dough, pulling them left and right, putting all the elbow grease he had into them. “Too bad, cause maybe then the pleasure won’t hit you as hard.”  
  
Not that he’d care, and not that he’d stop. Even if it was through her tight tanned top, Whiskey continued to massage the breasts, pushing them together, rolling them around, and even slapping them for good measure. It wasn’t as satisfying as if they were naked, but watching the girl’s body shake and shiver at the impacts did his heart more good then the _barrels_ of liquid he’d inhaled over the last month.  
  
“All set up front, now what’s in the trunk?” He asked himself, putting a hand into the face of a nearby man, shoving him back and into a compromising situation. The man’s loss once time resumed. He had bigger fish to catch. “Well, it looks fine with the cover on. But how does it feel?”  
  
Whiskey wasted no time in lowering his hands and getting a handful of the blonde’s ass. It was as bountiful as her chest, and he loved the feeling of it just as much.  
  
“Oh, now _this_ is the ass of a royal bitch, pampered and raised by her _precious daddy_ ,” Whiskey spoke vehemently over Yang’s shoulder. Her grin didn’t alter, and her eyes were still staring forward, enjoying a beat that was eternally deaf to the person manhandling her. “I bet you let all the boys fuck this ass. Bet it's how you got into Beacon. If it wasn’t one of the profs giving you an _extra large_ assignment, I’m gonna wager daddy had a few chores for you to do, for some _additional allowance_.”  
  
Just imagining it, his cock got hard. Hard enough that he was pushing it against her ass with his hands, just waiting to plunge it in. He growled when he realized the cunt wasn’t a complete slut. She had on underwear, full set of panties without a hole in them. _Dammit_.  
  
Still, didn’t keep the down-trodden former student from appreciating what the girl had.  
  
Hands over the blonde’s large ass, feeling up the supple cheeks that hid the muscles beneath. Enough fat for slapping and fucking, but plenty of muscles for kicking and running. They were perfect for her, fitting the chest on her as well. Huge, round, and showing off the toned surface of her gut. This was the kind of Hunter her _dad_ wanted him to be, and he wasn’t good enough.  
  
She had all brawn, and probably no brains. Meanwhile, he was all brains, and no brawn.  
  
Those brains told Whiskey that fucking the daughter of Taiyang Xiao Long on the open dance floor would be a bad idea. Do that, and a _few_ people would be enough to confirm what happened, or just a well-placed camera showing the girl jumping around. And if Taiyang was as smart as he was five years ago… no, he didn’t need the heat.  
  
All he needed was to wait for her to go somewhere a little less crowded. Fortunately, he _was_ smart. Smart enough to know that when a woman gets felt up, feeling all hot and bothered, she’s not going to stand still. Better yet, if she was alone, she’d vacate her spot to isolate herself, with the idea of cornering whoever it was approaching her.  
  
Whiskey knew what could happen, so all he had to do was encourage it. That began with doing what he was doing now.  
  
Making Yang Xiao Long feeling wet and wanton.  
  
Lifting up the blonde’s skirt as she and the rest of the club were frozen still, gripping her cheeks with all the strength he could muster. He didn’t need to be as strong as the other Hunters to know it would work.  
  
Women tended to melt into the greedy hands of whoever appreciated their body.  
  
For the blonde bimbo of the blonde bastard, there was plenty to appreciate.  
  
Whiskey busied himself with her, listening to only his harsh grunts in the vacuum around him. His fingers clawing at her clothing, grabbing the spare patches of skin and tracing them with a verdant brush. He felt the small bit of sweat she had worked up through her dancing smear under his strokes, rubbing over the muscles of her abs, the suppleness of her ass, and the long hard road of her thighs. There was a _lot_ to appreciate there. So, Whiskey didn’t even imagine trying to stop.  
  
What he _did_ have to stop himself from doing was ripping her coat straight off. Again, Whiskey knew he wasn’t the most fearsome or strongest contender in the ring of fighting, and he’d have to peel her jacket off, but he knew he couldn’t do it.  
  
Thick as Taiyang was, and his daughter was _clearly_ a bimbo to boot, it would only take a few quick guesses to realize he did this, or a wry camera catching him popping in and out of existence.  
  
He was smart, and he had a plan.  
  
“Hope you’re getting ready for this,” Whiskey all but _spat_ into Yang’s ear. “Because when I’m done with step one, you’re going to be _begging_ someone to push you down and drive you all the way home.”  
  
And as he spoke, the man made himself busy with her ass, her chest, and the front of her cunt. Teasing and flicking every nub and ounce of flesh he could find. Grabbing and massaging, before twisting and pulling, doing everything short of tearing them off and going to town. Everything just short of that.  
  
When he was done, the girl would be wet as the Vale Bay.  
  
Because when time started again, _all_ of it would hit her at once.  
  
Women were greedy for a man who took what he wanted, and he just shoved Yang Xiao Long all across the platter. She’d be _helpless_. Whiskey snickered at the idea, almost unable to control himself.  
  
But he did, because he was a Hunter, no matter what Taiyang Xiao Long said. And a Hunter had a plan. A plan, this time, that involved taking his hands off of the blonde, then skirting his way through the crowd. Eyeing the bitch with blonde hair, remembering how his hands had traced every _square inch_ of her flesh, and how she was going to be screaming as soon as he resumed time.  
  
Settling into the corner of the club, right by an obvious set of doors, Whiskey kept his grin proud and did just that.  
  
_CLICK!_

* * *

“ _YEA-HUAAAAAHGHGGHGHGHGH~~!”_ Yang _howled_ like she’d been stabbed, straight out of nowhere.  
  
One moment she was jumping up into the air, matching the almost manic tempo of the band playing. Then the next, she was hitting the dance floor on her knees, eyes rocking inside her skull, as her cunt clenched on nothing and ass felt like it had been spanked by a _goliath’s tusk_. Not even to mention her tits were sharper than _blades!_  
  
The pleasure tore through her, and she didn’t think she was the only one.  
  
Not when an entire crowd fell behind her. The blonde _was barely_ able to make it out, a bunch of men and women falling over like they’d been _punched_ , but that was all she could tell. A bunch of strangers picking themselves up off the floor, and Yang trying her best to pull her skirt back down over her ass, even as her cunt leaked.  
  
Oh great, she was _leaking_. Fuck whatever part of her genetics made her a _squirter_.  
  
But those same genes made her a Huntress, so she had good instincts. Instincts good enough to tell her to _get out of there_ while everyone else was picking themselves off of the floor.   
  
She was strong enough to push a way through the crowd herself. Her quivering body practically slammed the door to the women’s bathroom open, the thrum of the music a dull thump as she entered. Her boots clicked against the tiles, and Yang _loathed_ just how obviously soaked she was.  
  
Glancing down, she looked like she wet herself her thighs were so slick, and it didn’t help that her tits were visible enough that she practically didn’t even _need_ her top. Just…   
  
“W-What the hell…” She ground out as she ground her palm into her forehead. “And this was supposed to be a fun night. Now it’s just gonna be a stain in my head… like the one on my crotch…” she ground that out as well, just as she grabbed some paper towels from the dispenser, quick to blot herself. “My favorite set.”  
  
Yang bit her lip as she patted herself dry, or as dry as she could. It was hard when her body was still rolling through what _felt_ like an orgasm, but she knew it couldn’t be. It couldn’t be one because she hadn’t fucked anyone, especially not on the open dance floor! It was just… something must have been smacked over her head, or whatever knocked everyone over tried to knock her up.  
  
“ _Guuuh._ ” A cold shiver ran through her with the idea, pulling her arms up and shivering. “I might as well just… finish this up and get back home.” The decision was made as she wiped away the last of the liquid on her thighs, hiding them for the most part. Not much she could do about her chest, especially if she was looking like she’d just gotten off the best side of the bed. “Fuck… Weiss’s gonna kill me.” Not to mention what her sister or partner would think of this.  
  
But that wasn’t important. Yang wanted to party, but not enough to look like some freshly fucked slut on the dance floor. She couldn’t imagine a faster way to get the profs at Beacon to expel her than that. The very idea made her sick. Sick as… ass.  
  
“ _Hurlg…_ ” Yang’s hand caught her throat as she felt something lurch. Lavender eyes widened as she sucked in a breath, fighting to push it down. She wasn’t actually sick… was she?  
  
Hastily, she looked into the mirror, looking over her features and ignoring the leftovers of _whatever_ happened to her on the dancefloor. Blonde hair sweaty, breasts pert, thighs and gut dry now, and… something on her face. Something that was _not_ sweat-proof makeup.  
  
Gingerly, her hand reached up to swipe at it, working her tongue in her mouth. Her throat still felt as if it had been blown out by something, but she focused on the bit of liquid that was on her face. No wait… cream… Maybe… hopefully. That hope was dashed as Yang held her finger out in front of her eyes, staring at the dop of material that was sitting there.  
  
Yang Xiao Long wasn’t a slut, but she was no blushing virgin.  
  
She recognized _cum_ when she saw it.  
  
“H-Huh…?” The sound weakly left her as she stared at it. The lurching feeling in her throat _magnified_ , and the heat coming from it expanding. “What… what…” Her eyes were shaking as she stared at the drop of cum, tears slowly forming at the edges of her gaze. “What… h-huh-”  
  
Yang shut her lips, locking her jaw, as tight as she could. She felt something rising up, and she was terrified of what it was going to be. As soon as it entered her mouth, she could taste what it was, and she loathed it more than anything else.  
  
_“HURK~~!_ ” The sound ripped out of her with the fluids.  
  
With the cum that _exploded_ out of her mouth.  
  
Yang’s hand slapped at her mouth the moment the white goop started to _shoot_ out of it. It did little good. It sprayed past her lips and decorated the mirror in front of her. Like she was the hose just _drenching_ the glass with it. What was worse, was that she could _taste_ it. Feel the hot spunk shooting past her tongue and leaving the salty sensation behind. And what was worse than _that?_  
  
She _still_ had no idea where it was coming from!?  
  
“ _Hurlghgh~!_ ” Her stomach rumbled with sickening horror, fingers nearly cracking the counter she gripped. Yang bent her head over the counter, not even bothering to push her blonde hair out of the way. She didn’t have the strength for it.  
  
It was hard to muster _any_ kind of strength when you were watching cum drip out of your mouth and clog a drain. All while you realized your ass had been smacked red and cunt toyed with like free-use stress relief. Her lips trembled as more of the liquid fell from her in goops, splattering against the ceramic pot.  
  
“This… this isn’t happening…” Yang let out, mind trying to catch up with what she was seeing. “I didn’t… I haven’t…” Sucked a cock. Even alone, she couldn’t even say it. Maybe she’d seen a cock, but she sure as hell hadn’t _fucked_ any tonight! “What is… what kind of… Gotta be a Semblance but… but…” She tried to swallow some more, to get her body under control.  
  
That made her taste the cum flowing back down _into_ her. She nearly hurled again.  
  
“ _GUAH!_ ” She screamed as she leaned back, careless now of who entered. “Fuck. Fuck! _FUCK!_ ” Truly and utterly apathetic to witnesses here. “There’s gotta… there has to be someone nearby that’s doing this. And… and who is it?!” She yelled it once more.  
  
It was only when she started listening that she realized the thumping of the music outside probably muted her to everyone. Made her just another unknown woman getting fucked up in the backroom bathroom, to be whispered about for weeks to come.  
  
Fuck that noise.  
  
“Forget it.” Yang steeled herself, unwilling to let anyone see her like this. “I’m gonna. I’m just gonna get home, shower for _hours_ , then hit the hay. Maybe get Rubes to help me tear this place down later, and have Blake sniff out the _crooks_ in it.” She grit her teeth at the idea, but the soreness at the edges of her lips kept her from feeling any empathy.  
  
Her lavender eyes turned back towards the wall, at a mirror her _spunk fountain_ hadn’t drenched. Her face was one of fury, even as her hand wiped away more of the cum that stained her. She pushed a _globful_ of it out from her cheek when she stopped. Not from anything good either. Yang’s eyes were drawn to something on her cheek, buried beneath a layer of cum that had soaked her. Looking at it now, she knew what it was, because she’d seen enough jokes about it.  
  
She recognized the singular solitary tally mark on her cheek, written in luminescent green ink.  
  
“H-Huh?” Her voice weakly let out. Yang boots automatically carried her closer to the sinks again, hand at the mirror to trace her reflection, eyeing the green mark on her face. A line, a tally, a _count_ on her. From what… where… h-how- “ _HURCHCH~!_ ”  
  
She didn’t know, not when she vomited up more cum again.   
  
Splashing against the glass, covering a second sink, and this time sending her to her knees. She covered the floor beneath her, watching it with bleary eyes as it soaked the tiles, running like sap over her shaking hands and quivering knees. It splashed up and hit her hanging breasts, and continued on from there.   
  
There was so much of it, _thrice_ as much as she let out the first time. Yang was spitting it out when it was done _exploding_ out of her, forcing the blonde to taste the salty mixture every time she shut her lips and spat, every time her tongue rolled through it… cleaned her teeth, her inner cheeks.  
  
There was so much of it.  
  
“ _Hurgh… Hurgh…_ ” Empty gasps left her chest, shivering with fatigue, jaw hanging open when it wasn’t trembling. She lifted her head, trying to suck in air through her nose. It _filled_ her with the musky stench of the hot liquid, making her throat tremble and gut rumble as if she were going to vomit up more of the spunk again.  
  
Yang held it down, as much as she could, just as she managed to put a hand to the counter, gripping it until the ceramic cracked. She couldn’t control her strength, and she didn’t care about it. She just… had to get up. She couldn’t stay on the ground like this. It was almost impossible with how much her arms were shaking.  
  
But fighting through it, Yang dragged herself back up, until her chin was over the countertop, when the _cum_ that was on her face _smeared_ on her. A grunt of effort, matched with blowing cum bubbles, left her as she barely managed to stand to her tallest. Or as tall as she could with limbs that quivered like pastry.  
  
The first thing Yang saw was the cum that _drenched_ her body, spilling out of her mouth like she’d broken a glass of milk over her face.  
  
The second were the green tally marks. _Ten_ of them under her eyes.  
  
This wasn’t happening. There was _no way_ this was-  
  
“ _HYAAAAGHGHGHGH~~~~!_ ” The scream _tore_ through her before she could prepare herself.  
  
Yang had just as much time to get ready for the orgasm that _stirred_ her brain.  
  
The high position she’d gotten on the counter’s edge collapsed with her. Knees buckling as her back arched to almost painful levels, matched only by her eyes rolling into her skull. _SLAP!_ Her back, and head, hit the cum stained tiled floor before she’d even stopped screaming. Even after that, the pleasure didn’t stop.  
  
Oh, and it was _pleasure~!_ She’d had enough orgasms in her life to know what pleasure was, and this was that. At least the sensation of electricity ripping her body apart on the atomic level, hard enough for the blonde to think she was hearing with her nose and seeing with her tongue, was that.   
  
Yang had heard of edging. She’d heard of teasing. She’d even heard of pleasure that made you pass out. This wasn’t that.  
  
This pleasure was _torture_.  
  
“ _HYYAYAAH~~~ AAAAHGHHGGH~~!_ ” Yang continued to howl with the little air she could find as her orgasm continued to rip and tear through her. Her hands clenched and tore at the tile, all while her body rose and fell, slapping the pool of cum she was laying in, the cum that had been spewn forth from her own mouth. Her toes were curled until they were touching the balls of her feet, and her thighs were _useless strings of meat_.  
  
That was what happened when you were spewing cum from your cunt, and the orgasms that racked through her counted up with it.  
  
“AAHAHGH~ _MAKE IT STOO-AGAAHHGAHG~~!_ ” Yang continued to howl, but it didn’t stop, not even close. If anything, she was cumming _harder_. Screaming until her throat was hoarse and her eyes were looking at her brain. Her melting and cum-drenched brain. The same kind of cum she couldn’t even shut her legs to stop spewing from her overly fucked snatch!  
  
It flew out of her like her mouth, hitting the wall under the sink and swimming towards her. So much of it, _gallons_ of it. And all of that making her cum it… it…  
  
“ _HUGHghghghggggg…_ ” After what was an eternity to Yang’s mind, the pleasure subsided.  
  
It didn’t stop, it wasn’t gone. It was still there, but like a needle to her arm compared to the _anema_ she had just endured.  
  
Her limbs barely responded to her when she tried to move them, a part of her wondered if she even wanted to. Yang was almost content to just lay on the cum-stained bathroom floor, staring at the entryway and wait for someone to come in and see her like this. There wasn’t an ounce of strength left in her to pick herself up.   
  
It hurt so much, it hurt _too_ much. It was… It was the kind of pleasure she was afraid, enough to make her shiver with a bit lip. It was bad, _so bad_.  
  
But… But she had to get up. She had to move. Beacon, Rubes… they couldn’t see her like this.  
  
Tears stained Yang’s face as she tried to roll herself over. The vacuous feeling of the cum holding onto her was sickening, almost as much as knowing she was _bathing_ her hair in it. Not nearly as much as knowing it had all been shot forth from her. Yang didn’t even try to swallow, fearful she was going to swallow more of the cum.  
  
It took _minutes_ , but she managed to flip over, slapping her still covered breasts over the cum, and drenching her front with it. _Wonderful_. Her hands gripped the floor, the holes she had made through her ripping orgasm, or torrent of them, and pushed.  
  
“Get… up… get… _up…_ ” She rose to her hands and knees, and she watched the semen drip from her body. Yang did her best not to hurl again.  
  
She did that by looking between her legs, past the valley of her chest, and at her cunt. There was _no_ surprise to her that her panties were missing, just as much that her skirt was gone. It could have been _shredded_ with how much cum was shot out of her, and Yang only realized what that meant.  
  
“They’re… buried… in… in… _cum…_ ” She tried not to cry, she really did, but it was seemingly impossible. She held herself back what little she could. That was, until she noticed a dry spot on her inner thigh.  
  
An _impossibility_ considering the torrent of semen she had shot out, but it was there. And it was there to display not one, but _two_ horrifying messages  
  
_Two dozen_ felt tip green tally marks on her inner thigh. And a mark, a _tattoo_ , that had suddenly appeared.  
  
_FUCK HOLE HERE ---- >_  
  
Yang _convulsed_. What was happening, what was… what was _happening?_ Was she being haunted? Cursed? _Obviously_ raped! But what… what…  
  
She shook her head, heavy with the cum that stained it. She had to get out of here. Even if she was humiliated and pitied for life, she had to _leave!_  
  
Her hands clawed at the tile, pulling her way forward, desperate to reach the door. Her knees dragged through the cum, her boots were painted with semen, and the palms of her hands slapped at the liquid. Yang didn’t care, she _ignored it_. She just had to leave… she just.  
  
_WUMP!_ She didn’t let out a sound as something suddenly fucked her ass.  
  
It was so sudden, so out of nowhere, that she didn’t even react. Yang had that moment to appreciate, to _tremble_ , at the feeling of the cock shoved right up her. It was a cock, it was a dick, and it was fucking her ass balls deep. Balls that rested on her cunt.  
  
She didn’t move, she didn’t react, she just… waited. She had no idea what to do.  
  
“Like it?” The voice suddenly asked above her. Yang ducked her head, more fearful of it than any Grimm. “Sure looks like you did. Don’t worry, you’ve only done your first set. For this workout, we have _dozens_ to go.”  
  
No. No No No _NO NO NO!_  
  
“ _NOOOO-”_  
  
_CLICK!_

* * *

“And… done,” Whiskey spoke proudly as he eyed the girl beneath him. “Gotta say, Taiyang may not have any brains, but at least he raises his kids to last. Guess he has a talent for teaching whores.”  
  
The man looked down at the blonde splayed out on the toilet head. He was a Hunter, but looking at the bitch now, it was hard to not see her as a work of art. Not when he had spent _days_ working on her in here, and all in the span of a few short _minutes_ for her.  
  
Nodding his head, he had to admit. His work _showed_.  
  
The blonde’s hair was pulled back and tied to the toilet faucet behind her, cum stained and drenched as the rest of her body. It was impossible to tell in her frozen state if her eyes were rolled back in pleasure, or if he just got her after another particularly hard orgasm ripped through her. If it weren’t for the tallies across her flesh, he would’ve lost count.  
  
It was impossible to lose track of her legs though, spread out for all to see and showing off her ruined cunt and ass. Cum covered them to be mistaken for underwear, especially in a place frozen in time. Her ass was reamed through, and it was a sight that he’d forever remember, thanks to the _multitude of pictures_ he’d taken of her. Enough to fill a collage.  
  
That set wouldn’t be complete without her breasts as well, freshly pierced sometime in the middle of the whole event, and enough to show that she was perky and ready to fuck. Tied up like she was, he was confident that would be an act she’d have to endure for _hours_ to come. Or at least until a cock walked in on her.  
  
But overall, Whiskey was finally, _finally_ , satisfied.  
  
And all it took was the public display of the cumdump that was Taiyang Xiao Long’s daughter, matched with over a hundred green tally marks on her cheek, her thigh, and over her ass. Fun as it was to show often the entertainment had been used, it was important to remind them just what it was used for.  
  
Hence the proud displays of _SLUT_ and _FREE USE HERE_ pointed over her calves, arrows swimming towards her overly fucked holes. _BREEDING STATION_ was his personal favorite, right over the lips of her cunt, almost illegible with the amount of cum that stained them. But the coup de grace _had_ to be the _EAGER_ right across her forehead. It went with her rolling orgasmic expression.  
  
“Yup… perfect…” Whiskey spoke, smiling like he hadn’t in years. He honestly felt like he hadn’t. But now… he was back on track for it again, and he sighed at the sight. “Finally got something good in this world Taiyang, almost makes up for screwing the best out of it.” He left the stall with pen in hand, adjusting himself as he stepped towards the door. “I bet when you hear about this, you’ll be regretting _ever_ thinking your daughter was good enough. Better than the rest of the Hunters you failed.”   
  
He unlatched the door frame, walking back into the crowded and muted dance floor.  
  
In no time, he was outside, breathing in the still fresh air of the city. It didn’t have a scent to him yet, just like it didn’t have a sound, but Whiskey enjoyed that all the more. Looking up at the shattered moon, he couldn’t stop grinning.  
  
Because all he could see now, was that blonde’s shattered features.  
  
_CLICK!_


End file.
